


Thaw

by DreamingState



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Confessions, F/M, Mild Self Harm, i guess?, non sexual nudity, temporary suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-19 19:41:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17007966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamingState/pseuds/DreamingState
Summary: Belarus has a habit that is a little self destructive, and Lithuania is here to help.For Aph Rare Pair Week 2018 on tumblr.For day 6 ( a little late, I apologize)





	Thaw

The window latch felt cold under her bare fingers, the metal frosted with ice even on the inside. A light shiver coursed through her body despite herself, even though she’d felt much worse before and would again soon. It was the dead of winter, when the snow piles up outside the windows and can even block her door if she’s not careful. If she lived near the cities, it wouldn’t be so much of a problem, but she detested being suffocated by the myriads of other people who lived there. Human interaction was not a favorite of hers, and the silence of winter when the snow fell and dampened the sounds of nature was too alluring to resist. It was also difficult to ‘rest’ around people, someone would be bound to notice and call the police, or worse, and she’d have to explain what she was and what she was doing, and that was never something she enjoyed.

            When she was a child, it was easier. She’d awoken alone, in the woods, in the heart of winter like it was now. There was no one to explain to her what she was, or how to take care of herself, so many times in those early days she would freeze in the night. Her world would go dark and she would slumber until the sun warmed her porcelain skin and she would awake to what seemed like a new world. The cold was a constant companion, it was nearly impossible to keep it out of her bones, so when it chose to embrace her completely, she relented. This would happen frequently, until she came across a den of wolves. They should have torn her apart, but perhaps they sensed how lost she was, how new to the world despite her immortality, and let her snuggle up in the center of the den with the pups. They grew faster than she, but she could wrestle and play with them, while still respecting the authority of the parent wolves, so they let her stay. It was warmer in the den, and she fell into the arms of winter less often than before. This continued for quite some time, grown wolves adopting her in with their pups and seemingly not questioning when those pups became adults and she remained a child. The cycle would repeat year after year, and she was a fixture among them, until her people found her.

            They wrenched her away from the depths of the woods, and dragged her snarling and screaming back to civilization where they washed her and groomed her and dressed her, taught her what it was like to be human and then telling her what she was. In those early days, they called her _biely vouk,_ and treated her like the wild animal she was in her heart. Unlike the wolves, humans spoke _a lot,_ and by some curse of nature, she understood them immediately, the language innate. Their lives made hers more complicated, and more complicated still by the relationships she forged with those of her kind. Her simple life with the wolves was at an end.

            Succumbing to the winter again would not reset her life, would not bring her back to those days of fur and snow, but the brief silence of the dark gave her more comfort than the pain of life. So, even though the skin of her fingers complained of the sting, she undid the latch and swung the windows open. Immediately, the chill enveloped her, singing along her bare arms, sinking through her bodice and skirts. Her whole body shivered, and she let out a small cry at the sheer _intensity_ of the cold. When she was a child, the pain hadn’t bothered her, as it was something she knew intimately. The fact that it hurt so badly now showed how far she’d fallen from her wild self, how much the world of humans had a hold on her. Small tears spilled down her cheeks, and froze there in moments as the chill quickly permeated every corner of her small house in the woods. She felt her blood began to slow in her veins, her heart pumping more and more quietly, and her shivering eventually stopped. It was soon time, when her body would plunge into that dark and empty place, and she would think of nothing more until the summer when her body would warm again. With a small sigh, she closed her eyes.

            The door slammed open, surprising her though it shouldn’t have. He always had a sixth sense for when she was feeling the call of the winter void, and for some reason seemed intent to stop her each time.

            “Not again, _Natalya,_ ” he scolded, and quickly crossed the room to shut the window and close the curtains. A low stream of Lithuanian fell from his lips that she pretended not to understand for his sake- when he mumbled in his own language it was usually the closest to his pure thoughts. If he truly wanted to tell her, he would have chosen her language instead. The man shucked off his coat and his own shirt, and pulled her close against his warmth. Against her better wishes, she gasped with pleasure as his body heat began to sink into her chilled flesh. Goosebumps raced across his skin, and he shivered hard. She must have felt like ice against him.

            “Litva,” she said against his shoulder, and let her eyes close again. “You should leave me be.”

            “If you wouldn’t do this, maybe I could,” he replied, rubbing his hands up and down her arms to try to warm her further with the friction. When he was satisfied with the small warmth that returned to her extremities, he pulled at the stays of her bodice until that was removed too, trying to get as much body-to-body contact as possible to warm her without shocking her system. Those hands were far too practiced at that, she mused, even though they had been married once and he knew her body quite intimately. He was one of the few who didn’t suck in a gasp at her scars, and give her that pitiful look at the sight of the extensive burn reaching across her left shoulder and down her back. He had scars of his own, and she too did not comment on them.

            When they’d first lain together, she’d traced her fingers across each and every one, though they were far fewer then, and he’d sighed in pleasure under her touch until the light touches were not enough anymore, and he’d surged up to claim her lips against his own and gently push her back against the bed. Those were simpler times.

            Eventually, his body adjusted to how cold she was, and hers warmed under his touch, so the cold was less unbearable for him and he finally drew back. After scooping up his heavy jacket from the ground, he carefully draped it over her shoulders as if she were a doll to be dressed. If it was anyone else, she would have attacked them, but the tenderness in his gestures and the knowledge of the weight of emotions behind them kept her from reacting violently.

            “Come. I will start a fire,” he said, and took her by the elbow to guide her to the couch in front of the fireplace. Her supply of firewood was well stocked though she hadn’t planned on using it- perhaps she’d expected him to come anyway. Perhaps she’d known he was going to come and stop her, or at least she hoped for it. Would that make her actions a cry for help? No, surely not. That was pathetic.

            Nonetheless, he had plenty to work with as he built a fire and started it, blowing gently on the kindling until it caught flame and spread to the logs, producing a great deal of warmth. He sat back on his heels to examine his handiwork before he stood and gazed into it for a long moment until she called to him.

            “Litva,” she said quietly, and the sound seemed to jolt him a little, and he turned to look at her. His emotion was unreadable in the relative darkness, with the light behind him, though she sensed his displeasure.

            “Please, Natalya. My name.”

            “Litva,” she replied stubbornly.

            It wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation. She was content to be Belarussia only, and had no need for pretenses of being a human being. Yet it was he who had given her a name, during his Christian phase. _‘You light up my world, like Christmas day, my Natalya,’_ he’d said with such heart she was powerless to stop the name from sinking into her blood and becoming hers. It was a curse, to be reminded of him every time she was called such, for the name stuck and spread until everyone referred to her that way (except the Polish brat who called her ‘Nat,’ until she threatened bodily harm against him, and he would cease until the next time they met). Nonetheless, even though she’d allowed the name Litva gave her to stick, she had no desire to share such familiarity back at him. He’d chosen his name himself, and it was beautiful, but the circumstances were different. He was Litva, and nothing more, not to her. They had bonded because they were nations together, because they were close geographically, and that’s all.

            (Besides, she was sure that’s what Polska called him, and the thought of those two _together_ grated on her. She would rather not be reminded of the time he’d left her for _him_ ).

            She could understand why he was stubborn about it, for he wanted to cross into more familiarity with her, but it was unnecessary. She kept that boundary between them strong.

            He sighed, sensing defeat. Sometimes he would press the issue more, and they would fight, and they would separate from each other in anger. Still, even so, he would return to her soon enough, and things would be tolerable between them again, until he became frustrated with her once more. It was an ever-repeating cycle. She could understand what he wouldn’t, couldn’t he see through her as well? Or perhaps he could, and that’s what led to the endless frustration. It was difficult to tell, when they knew each other so well, if she was truly reading him correctly, or projecting her own interpretation onto his actions.

            Gently she removed one hand from the huddle of the Lithuanian’s jacket, which she held closed as if it were a cloak without fastenings, and reached out a pale arm to him.

            “Please,” she said.

            She rarely asked for anything from him, sometimes reacting with violence when all he wanted was to touch her, so when she spoke that word, she could see his anger crumble to nothing as he stepped forward to sit next to her on the couch. She fell easily into his arms, as she’d done a thousand times, and he wrapped her up in himself. Since he was still without a shirt, she draped his jacket around them both, and he dragged the blanket off of the back of the couch to warm them up as well. They ceased to move for several moments, other than that of their chests as they breathed, and the way Litva gently brushed his hand across her shoulder. It was so calm, peaceful, silent except for the crackling of the fire and the gentle falling snow accumulating outside. For a while, she fell into a light doze until Litva shifted against her, and spoke into the quiet.

            “Why?”

            “Why what?”

            “Why I call you Litva? Now you ask after all this time?”

            “No,” he said with a sigh. “Why are you so intent to freeze?”

            “Oh.”

            She hadn’t expected for him to ask that, had assumed he considered it just one of her quirks. It was true that the way she fiercely clung to life in all other aspects, but would fully embrace the temporary ‘death’ of freezing was illogical, but the way it felt to be quietly erased, like a machine slowly running out of fuel, was a feeling that she couldn’t describe.

            “General Winter will swallow me soon, you know.” When she spoke, she referred not to the nearly physical presence the season commanded, but to the nation that lay to their eastern borders, a ravenous being that swallowed up all other sovereign states in his way until they belonged to – or worse – became part of him. “Should I not practice for oblivion? When I know I will wake it becomes far less intimidating, and if I won’t, then the transition is more peaceful isn’t it- “

            “Stop,” he replied, and another shiver ran through him that had nothing to do with the cold. “Don’t talk about things you don’t know will pass…”

            He trailed off and she sighed. She knew that he thought she was paranoid, yet even he could not erase the doubt from his mind. After several long moments, he spoke again.

            “You’ll live. I want you to live. So please don’t try to die before your time.”

            “Why?” It was her turn to question. Truly, she didn’t understand why he cared for her so, why he put up with her antics and occasional self-destructive behavior when, certainly, he had far more options to choose from in regards to company. To list them all would be depressing. To her, he was the majority of what she had. Her sister had turned to her own needs long ago, and it was only Litva who remained so devoted to her.

            “Because, Natalya. You know why.”

            “I don’t. Enlighten me. Does Polska get to be too annoying for you sometimes, so you prefer more violent company? I always knew you to be a masochist, Litva, and being handed such affection freely must be tiring-”

            “Is that why? Are you jealous of Feliks?”

            She grimaced at the name, an expression that looked more like a snarl.

            “I am not jealous of _Polska,_ ” she insisted. “I have no reason to be. He’s not…”

            She broke herself off, and she could almost _hear_ Litva thinking. Her face flushed hot, and she already felt the desire to flee rising within her, had begun pulling away from the other and making her escape, but just as quickly, his arms tightened around her and she couldn’t move.

            “Feliks is my best friend,” he said. “We were married once, yes, but we haven’t… not for a long time. It’s not the same.”

            “Clearly,” she replied curtly, and she felt him shake his head just a little.

            “I love you. I love _you,_ ” he said, tightening his arms around her even more, so that she might have felt trapped but instead was… comforted.

            “Oh,” she replied.

            “Oh?” his voice was incredulous, as if she’d just rejected him. To his credit, however, he still didn’t pull away and she made no move to run either.

            “Hush, Litva. I’m not… the best… with _love_.”

            “I know that. I’m not trying to pressure you, I just-”

            “Hush.”

            When she commanded him, he obeyed, and gave her precious time to think. It was obvious, now that she thought about it, though she’d never put that reasoning to his actions. He was surrounded by others who loved him too, bright golden boys and girls who smiled and were nothing like her. But maybe that was why. She was, personally, quite different from all overs, even her siblings. To look at her and her sister, and one would be hard pressed to find a single similarity between the two of them.

            He, too, was different. Special. There was no shortage of kind men in this world who _wanted something,_ but he alone did not make her skin crawl, and he alone was one that she trusted and cared for. Her chest felt tight, overcome with a feeling she couldn’t put a name to but it might be… it might very well be…

            “I think I… I’m not sure but I think I must… To you, I…”

            She couldn’t say it. He seemed to understand, trailing a hand up and down against her back, soothing her.

            “It’s okay. You just deserve to know, you don’t have to force yourself to say it back.”

            “Just because I don’t want to say it doesn’t mean I don’t _feel_ things. For you,” she said, and he laughed a little bit in response.

            “I know. You’re not the talkative sort,” he said. “I just ask that, for me, you try. No more freezing.”

            She hesitated for a moment, so he shook her a little so she looked up at him, and he held her gaze intently. The color of his irises made her feel like she was drowning in jade, or lying on her back on the forest floor, watching sunlight filter through the leaves. It caught her, froze her in warmth.

            “No more freezing. Please say it.”

            “No more freezing,” she said with a sigh, and he finally relaxed and let her fall gently back onto his chest.

            “Good. I love you. If you need anything, and if you feel the urge again, you can call me.”

            “Even if you’re with Polska?”

            “Even then.”

            “Hmmm,” was her only reply. Litva wasn’t one to lie to her, not in moments like these.

            They lapsed back into silence, and she felt heartened that although he had confessed such feelings to her, he did not try to kiss her or do anything else, not now. It wasn’t as if she disliked those things, and found them quite enjoyable when they were with him, but she didn’t feel like any of that at the moment, and he was content to just hold her. For someone who found it difficult to trust others, he made it easy.

            For a while, it seemed as though he fell into a doze, for his breathing evened out and he didn’t stir. The feeling of his chest moving under her was rather comforting, but still she drew back a little to look back up at his face.

            Though she’d been sure he had fallen asleep, his eyes opened to look at her, and once again she was arrested by those deep greens.

            “Margiris, I love you,” she said softly.

            His face remained frozen into mild curiosity as it took a moment to process. But when it finally did, he beamed, his smile so brilliant it was hard to look at and it made her heart skip in her chest. One of the hands that had been draped about her shoulders he moved to her face to cup her cheek.

            “I love you, most ardently, Natalya,” he replied.

            She reached up and touched her hand against his, feeling his rough work-calloused skin against hers, and pulled his hand to her lips to give his knuckles a small kiss.

            His breathing stuttered and he sucked in a gasp, making her smile.

            “I’m glad to know that I can still affect you so easily. You were awfully casual with me earlier.”

            “That’s because-”

            He began to protest, but she silenced him by dropping his hand and surging forward to capture his lips with hers, chaste but soon giving over to deeper yearnings. Their mouths danced together for a long while before she pulled away to look at him, his face flushed and eyes full of warmth and feeling and _love._ She didn’t know how she came to seduce such a creature, but now that she had him once more, she would not let him go without a fight.

            “Thank you,” she said finally, and he laughed in his confusion.

            “Whatever for?” he asked, raising a hand to play with strands of her long, silvery hair between his fingers.

            “For being here. For loving me. For being someone I can trust,” she said.

            The amusement trailed from his expression, replaced fully by tenderness.

            “Of course, Natalya. I’ll always be here for you,” he said.

            He gave a small tug on her hair as if to pull her closer, and leaned forward a small amount with his gaze on her lips, his intent clear, but he allowed her a chance to escape or refuse him if she wanted. She did not want to. She closed the distance between their mouths and they embraced once again.

            If it were up to her, she would be happy to die like this, with him. But fate had other ideas, and they would both live for a very long time, together.

**Author's Note:**

> Margiris is a name chosen for the character of APH Lithuania chosen by my Lithuanian friend. It means "forest dweller."  
> I chose it for this fic because it's the best name I have ever heard for him, and I'm really tired of the Toris/Taurys/Tolys debacle. I don't think any of those sound particularly good.   
> If you also like this name, I would vastly appreciate if you asked for permission first, since it was originally chosen by a dear friend of mine. Thank you!
> 
> Find me on tumblr @tintaglia


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